Radio Silence
by palomino333
Summary: Post-series. "Soundwave stood, and bowed. 'It is a pleasure, my lord. My voice, for as long as our contract is kept, is yours.'" On a dead world, Megatron reflects on the disappearance of his most loyal soldier. Slash. Radio-verse.


What I found interesting when writing this was what would entail Megatron and Soundwave's mentalities, i.e. being from backgrounds of enslavement, where one must fight to stay alive. However, I am not endorsing what either mech has done in the Aligned continuity, but I can see how each arrived at the conclusion to commit atrocities to further their goals. Part of it was sheer avarice. That cannot be disputed. However, another part of it is that both have fought to survive in the gladiatorial pits of Kaon. I will throw in the caveat that this does not absolve either of them, as both have refused to change their ways, despite the thousands (if not millions) of Cybertronians who had died under Megatron's regime.

That being said, it was interesting to deconstruct the Autobot mentality from this point of view, that being, from a point of a view of a Decepticon under the rank and file of Megatron (who most likely was someone who was treated as irreplaceable, Exhibit A being Drixco, a laborer and the first Decepticon Optimus Prime ever killed, as referenced in the Aligned novel _Exodus_ ), it is too weak, and does not give the results that he/she would want right now. Exhibit B: The camaraderie between Arcee, Bulkhead, Ratchet, and Bumblebee being to collapse when Optimus is absent due to losing his memory in "Orion Pax."

I do not take Robots in Disguise (2015) as canon. It just seemed auxiliary to me after the finality of tone that the last scene of Predacons Rising had.

This is the cut version of the story. The uncut version (though not vastly different; only about five lines were deleted) is on AO3.

* * *

He could still feel him.

Megatron pressed a servo to his spark chamber, and splayed his fingers out. His spark hummed quietly. However, due to the utter silence of the planet upon which he stood, his spark seemed to pulse with a resounding echo.

The planet was desolate, orbiting a white dwarf star. Its sole moon cast its ice-filled surface in a haunting blue light. Scanners told the former tyrant that no life was to be detected upon the surface of the planet. Vegetation was non-existent, and the sheer cold of the planet disallowed the growth of bacteria. It was funny, really. He had his very own planet for the taking, yet it didn't matter to him at all. He couldn't stay long, anyway, as there was no energon to be found. Loneliness wasn't something that he considered to be an issue. Jammed in with other slaves, he'd have given anything to be turned loose, away from the stink and spilled energon. So then, in the arena, he'd fought viciously both to survive, and to revel in his freedom, however short, with the crowds screaming his name.

The light of the star Cybertron orbited glanced off Soundwave's visor as he perched on the edge of the wall jutting into the coliseum. His pose was like that of a big cat on Earth, his datacables threateningly splayed out, and their ends crackling with electricity. Springing, he'd gouged Megatronus's face and neck with his clawed servos before catching himself midair by his datacables, and tumbling backward. He proved an extremely dangerous foe to Megatronus, his reach bringing him out of the way of the massive warrior's blows, while still being able to seize and lock his arms and legs.

Constricted within Soundwave's datacables, and held aloft, Megatronus gasped as the crowd screamed for Soundwave to crush him to death. The mech taunted him by displaying on his screen data on Megatronus's body, such as what areas were being slowly damaged by the constriction. Reeling backward, Megatronus threw what was left of his diminishing strength forward, and smashed his helm into Soundwave's visor. A massive crack instantly formed upon Soundwave's visor, and the mech shrieked in pain, his synthesizer cutting and filling with static. His grip slackened on Megatronus, who shoved his datacables apart, and dropped to the ground, broken glass raining down upon him, and one datacable in each servo. Yanking hard upon them, he brought Soundwave to him, and sprung upon him, unleashing his anger and humiliation in his fists. For every strangled cry or twitch Soundwave gave at his strike, he hit harder, smashing armor and tearing at sensitive wiring.

Looming over Soundwave's utterly broken form, his neck twisted and visor smashed, Megatronus, his body covered in deep scratches, and his armor badly dented, raised his arms skyward in triumph. The crowd cheered, and screamed out for Soundwave's death. His fists clenched, Megatronus stared down upon his prey, and for a moment, he was ready to bring them down upon him. The next, however, they released, as he realized how this mech might be useful to him. Instead, he swung his arms through the air, gesturing for the cheers to raise higher. In the pandemonium, the fact that Soundwave was still alive was soon forgotten.

At his first lecture for insurgency, he saw the reflection of light on Soundwave's replaced visor as he stood quietly in the gathered band of gladiators and miners. It was not until after Megatronus had finished speaking that Soundwave quietly approached him. "Your words," he began, his voice deepened considerably by his synthesizer, "are good, though I am unsure as to whether you intend to truly fulfill your promises, or you are simply like the politicians upon the Council."

"In due time, my comrade," Megatronus replied, shaking Soundwave's outstretched servo, "Though I must say it was strange to see you among the throng."

Soundwave withdrew his servo, cutting immediately to the chase. "Why did you spare me that day?"

"Perhaps I considered that you would be more useful to me alive," Megatronus replied simply, walking over and sitting down upon a jutting pipe. Far below the streets of Cybertron, within its sewage system, he thought the pipe to be a mockery of a throne as he laid his back against the slime-covered wall.

Soundwave waved his arm dismissively. "Then you may amass a fortune on your own time to buy me."

Megatronus stared quietly at him for a few moments. "Soundwave," he began gently, "come sit beside me." His fellow gladiator did so slowly, his gaze fixated upon him. His datacables were sheathed for the moment, but Megatronus would have been a fool to think that Soundwave did not have them at the ready, in case he should try anything. Soundwave stepped past him to alight on his left side, keeping a considerable distance from him. Megatronus smirked at his comrade's cunning, as his dominant was his right. Turning his helm slightly to look at him, he replied, "I do not desire to purchase you. What I desire is for you and me to be able to make our own decisions in how our lives are led." He waved his arm. "The caste system serves only to hold us in bondage, and to confine us to the underbelly of this world to slaughter one another. We are treated as disposable while others live in luxury." Bitterness entered his tone, and his fist clenched. Releasing it, he composed himself before continuing. "I desire for those like you and me to have the freedom to truly live, not to simply survive. It is a freedom that should have been bestowed upon all Cybertronians, and not just a select few."

Soundwave quietly considered his words as water dripped. "Freedom," he replied at last, his clawed servos clutching at the pipe beneath him, "I would wager anything for that."

"And who would take your wager?" Megatronus inquired, intrigued.

"You would," he replied simply, "as you have defeated me in our match." His one servo let go, and held up a finger. "Make your offer, and I will place my wager."

"My offer is simple," Megatronus replied, as if they were two merchants haggling over a transaction, "Be at my side. Pledge yourself to me as my lieutenant, and I will afford you both power and protection. Should you sacrifice along with me, all victories will be awarded to you in equal measure."

"Enticing," Soundwave replied, his synthesizer making it hard for Megatronus to tell if it was said in sarcasm or genuine interest, "I assume I would share in the losses, as well, if I cast in my lot with you?"

"Certainly," Megatronus replied honestly, and without hesitation.

"Then it is done," Soundwave decided, spreading his servos, "My wager is as I see fit. I offer my voice to you. If I am to be at your side, it is likely, then, that an enemy would wish to extract your secrets from me."

"I accept," he replied, rising from the pipe, "Welcome to my charge, then, my lieutenant."

Soundwave stood, and bowed. "It is a pleasure, my lord. My voice, for as long as our contract is kept, is yours."

Megatron supposed it was fitting, then, that Soundwave was an excellent spy, due to being able to slip away. However, it was interesting, on the other hand, that he was unable to escape from his own enslavement. Then again, the bulk of Megatron's rank and file were previous slaves, and each had been effectively caged or beaten into submission one way or another to deter an escape. And Pax had the gall to think that he could speak for all Cybertron, while he had spent his existence buried in books. Still, when Megatronus had met him, he had, given Orion's size, deduced immediately that, had he the same upbringing as him, would have been a formidable opponent. However, Pax had been an outsider, so that had not come to pass at that moment.

Soundwave only removed his visor around him. Megatron knew that if he would have ordered it, Soundwave would have done it, but on that, he allowed him peace. Soundwave would carefully lay his mask upon a side table in Megatron's quarters, cognizant of its breakability. The spy's faceplate was a web of scars and chipped paint, bearing scratches, dents, deep gouges, and an old burn wound upon his right cheekplate. He'd flinched backward, his datacables hissing as they rose on either side of him, the first time Megatron had extended a servo toward him without his visor on. "Don't," he growled, his real voice odd to hear without his synthesizer, bearing a harsh rasp.

Megatron paused, his servo falling back to his side. Soundwave, realizing his mistake, narrowed his optics, their red lights glowing faintly, and each bearing hideous cracks. Despite being visually impaired, he stood his ground. Megatron, however, reached to the side to pick up Soundwave's visor, and present it to him. "You were branded," he commented in a knowing tone.

Soundwave's datacables gently took the visor from Megatron's servos. The spy paused before placing it back on his faceplate, his dead optics seeming to bore into his leader despite their poor condition. "I ran too often," he replied simply, the visor clicking as it locked back into place.

The spy had once had his fans in the gladiatorial pits. He'd strangled his opponents, and snapped their necks. He twisted limbs completely around, and split open the throats of other gladiators by jamming his datacables down them, and pushing outward. The cracks, breaks and at last, deposits of corpses upon the ground brought the roaring crowd to its feet. After Soundwave's defeat, however, he had been thought of as an easy mark, and jeers against him had replaced those for him. The crowd roared for his opponents to break him, and finish what Megatronus had started. Soundwave had assailed these jeers by ripping his opponent's T-cog from his still thrashing body, and flinging it, soaking with energon, into the crowd. Splattered with the energon, they had cried out, diving away from the projectile.

It had been a warning, one that had not been heeded. Though, the destruction wasn't merely of physical violence. Soundwave would have been a fool otherwise. While his prowess did sway the opinions of a few recruits, those who admired his strategic abilities and strength, it was not nearly to the same level as the sway Megatron held. But that was not his function. Hacking complex systems and draining resources was not glamorous, but it turned the tide of the war more immensely than a skirmish. Megatron bit and sucked on his neck cables, with Soundwave's legs around his hips, and ground him up against a terminal, upon learning of Soundwave stealing vital information that halted the formation of a new gestalt that would form Computron.

Their bonding had been rough, to say the very least. Energon had trailed from their biting, gnawing, and clawing at each other. Their sparks crackled and wound together, binding each other tightly with tendrils of the mechs' essences. Battles, beatings, and rage exploded between them.

The spark bond between tyrant and spy allowed rage, pent up for centuries to erupt within both mechs. Soundwave saw and felt, through his bonded's spark, Megatronus's massive frame, bound and muzzled as he was viciously beaten and injected with chemicals to keep him wild. Megatron saw Soundwave branded and burned, the softer metal of his protoform melting under a welder's torch as he was punished for attempting to escape. A handheld drill squealed as it broke the glass of Soundwave's optics, the gladiator held down by his arms and legs. Chained and hanging humiliatingly upside down, his visor removed by his owner, his faceplate was spat into, with a final warning that if he did try to escape once more, he would be scrapped.

Exhausted, Megatron slipped to his knees, with Soundwave clutched possessively to him in a crushing embrace. Seizing Megatron's shoulders for support, Soundwave stood slowly up on wobbly legs, and let out a shaky laugh.

Megatron's previous owners, brought to their knees with their optics smashed and vocalizers ripped out, could only tremble in fear as he, one by one, tore their helms from their bodies. Soundwave lowered his previous owner, pedes first, into the smelter, his screams of agony sweet music to his former slave, his visor reflecting the melting body, and the sparks glancing off it.

Soundwave did not have to voice his displeasure with Megatron's decisions, rather he could feel it through the bond. However, after Cybertron's core was ejected, Soundwave played back Megatron's own words from his first speech in that first clandestine meeting to haunt him. "A new era will dawn upon Cybertron. Every one of us will at last enjoy the freedoms that had only been offered a select few in the past." Standing quietly, with Megatron reflected in his visor, Soundwave's utter contempt for him bled through the bond.

Megatron felt compelled to strike him for his insolence, but he allowed it to pass. What stayed his servo was the pain his bondmate felt at losing his planet. Soundwave, likewise, felt the tyrant's outrage against his defiance, and tensed. He relaxed when Megatron continued to stand in the same place, his anger slowly dissipating. Soundwave turned quietly away from him, and stared out at the ruined husk of Cybertron, viewed through a window of the Nemesis. His shoulders rose as Megatron placed an arm about them. They lowered as his bondmate hugged him to himself. While the gesture held possessiveness to it, there was also a small moment of fear. There was perhaps the regret of what he had done to his own planet, but there was something else. As Megatron's fingers kneaded his shoulder, the spy realized the relief that the tyrant had felt to have him at his side, having survived this far. And yet, he had found it difficult to process how far he had truly fallen. Soundwave, despite his anger, budged not a step from him, and stared out at their devastated planet in silence.

On occasion, staring at Soundwave's form, curled on his side as he recharged beside him, Megatron wondered whether it would be harder to break his neck, or embrace him. He was a weakness, despite, or rather, due to, his loyalty. Sharing his spark with his third in command had effectively snapped shut a trap. Soundwave could little hide his emotions from him, but likewise Megatron's barrier had been knocked down. And yet, his servo would instead run over the slight curve of Soundwave's hip, stroking along his leg. Soundwave would groan, and part his legs, allowing him to run his claw over the seams, drawing soft sighs and the occasional cry of ecstasy from the spy. Soundwave, in some ways, posed more of a threat to him than Starscream, the fact being that he simply was trustworthy. Trust, Megatron had learned long ago, when Orion Pax had been selected over him, was so easy to misplace.

But Soundwave rarely ever failed him. He'd had Megatron's blind side more than once, strangling and throwing threats from him. Megatron had reciprocated, gutting an Autobot who had cracked Soundwave's visor, and, on another occasion, carrying an unconscious Soundwave over one shoulder, his body sparking from heavy damage. Likely, if he did try to kill Soundwave, it would be a murder-suicide, due to the two being evenly matched. He supposed, in a grotesque manner, it could be considered romantic, but he would rather live. It was more practical to have his equal share his berth.

In a way, it had fostered the arrogance that Soundwave would always be with him. It jarred him considerably for his third in command to vanish, out of sight, out of mind, and at the hands of insects, at that. Foolish though it was, he had underestimated those human children, and it had cost him tremendously. He'd entertained the notion, more than once, of squeezing them to death in his servo, and listening to their bones breaking, however, that had quickly vanished from importance upon having his thoughts being dominated by Unicron tormenting him.

Megatron's fist clenched about a rock bathed in blue light, and crushed it into dust. Still, it was a fun notion to entertain from time to time.

He was at last free to roam wherever he pleased. Unicron could no longer control him, though the sheer torture that the dark god had put him through still left its scars on him. Cybertron had been made whole again, though that was by Optimus, not him. Megatron suspected, however, that despite his former friend's many pontifications to the contrary, that it would only be repetition of what had begun before. However, he washed his servos of it now, as his own method did not work. Unicron had forced him to his knees, just as he had so many Autobots before unceremoniously blasting their helms off.

While Cybertron had been restored, he could not remain there, his crimes being too great. It didn't matter, in the eyes of the Autobots, what he had meant to accomplish with his revolution, as he had lost. Likely, without Optimus Prime at the helm, the Cybertronians (what was left of them) were bound to repeat the mistakes of the past.

As for Soundwave, he knew better than to hold out the hope that he would see him again. He had felt his bondmate's confusion at being lost in the Shadowzone, and later, his difficulty in processing the puzzle of attempting to leave. On occasion, there had been disappointment in not being able to leave, but never despair. Soundwave had had all the reason to feel despair in the gladiatorial pits, but had not relinquished his grip upon life. Rather, there was a sense of relief that was beginning to quietly form at last being alone, and free. Still, however, there was longing, and wondering what had happened. He hadn't missed much, Megatron decided, and he'd learn to get over it. His fist clenched. He had to. After all that had occurred, all that was lost, and all that was sacrificed, he had to.

The planet's silence offered no solace.

No Cybertron, no Soundwave, and as far as he could tell, no discernible future.

What now?


End file.
